Paradise
by TheRavenflower
Summary: Another supernatural fic... Can Harry evade that fickle woman, Fate?


Paradise  
  
A fanfiction by TheRavenflower  
  
-Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, any of his friends, or the devices used in this story. This is just for my writing pleasure. I also have very little money. So, don't sue me. Thanks. :)  
  
A/N: Hey! This is my second draft, which is so much better than the first... it's scary. I really enjoy writing this fic, because the way it changes every time I "tweak" it. So, even if you have read the previous version (**rolls eyes** - it was so bad!), there are many many differences, so I suggest re-reading it. If you have not read this before, I have three words for you: Don't freak out. This is just one long chapter, because I wasn't sure as to how to break this up. Read it, and please review at the bottom... and thanks again.  
  
  
*********************  
  
Harry remembered falling. He remembered being hit by something, then the sensation of falling, then blackness.   
  
He expected that. He was dead, or dying, and it didn't seem like much of a surprise.   
  
What happened next was rather surprising.  
  
Harry landed in a room, unlike any other room he had been inside before. It was round, but had corners at the same time. The color of the walls constantly changed, like a piece of elaborately made fabric. One instant it was fiery red, then it melted into a mellow green, then into a bright yellow.   
  
He was beginning to wonder if this was really what death seemed like when a woman appeared.  
  
She was the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen; though she didn't have a face, he knew that she had to be more beautiful than any other woman alive. She was slender, yet strong; the color of her skin and hair and dress changed colors constantly -- like the color of the walls, only more slowly and more majestic, somehow.   
  
The only constant color in the room was the color of her eyes. They were black, and seemed to grow larger with every moment she gazed at him. They shone a moment, and a translucent tear fell down the beautiful woman's changing face, down past the changing dress, to the changing floor.   
  
"Harry Potter," she said. It was like a revelation, a hymn, a song worthy of angels. Harry wondered if this could be Heaven, the next great adventure with just this changing woman in this changing room.  
  
"This is not Heaven," she said. Harry's heart seemed to sink, but sing at the same time. Her voice was beautiful. "Heaven, as you know it, does not exist. You, Harry Potter, are dead... and the next great adventure awaits." As though on cue, a door -- a solid, brown door -- appeared in the cornered-round wall.  
  
Harry sighed. "I know," he said with a voice that he didn't know existed. "What is this place?"  
  
The woman cocked her head; the face that was not a face seemed to make a quizzical expression. "Think of this place... as your waiting room. Here, you must make a decision. Go on in your adventure, as Fate has decided... or defy what has been written for you."  
  
"Defy what has been written?" Harry mirrored the expression the woman gave him.  
  
"Yes. I would not offer you the option if I did not see in your eyes that you could defy the fickle woman Fate."  
  
Fickle woman? he wondered. Fate is a woman?  
  
"Yes," she said. The word wrapped around him and wound through him, sweet like honey. "You can defy her, and help the friends you left behind."  
  
A cold wind swept through him at the words "left behind". He faintly remembered an evil that he left, a battle to be fought. He was killed in that battle...  
  
"Yes," the woman said again. "You must go back."  
  
"Wait," he objected. "What's beyond that door?"  
  
The woman smiled, and Harry felt as though all the evil in the world could be banished by the love in that smile. "A life free of danger. Anything you want... and everything you yearn for."  
  
"It is Heaven." And how he wanted to go.  
  
"It is not."   
  
"I want to go in."  
  
"Do you want to desert your friends? Leave them behind?"  
  
"Yes. No. Yes..." Heaven or earth? Pleasure or pain? Death or life? It would be so simple...  
  
"There comes a time," the woman said, "when one has to choose between what is right... and what is easy."  
  
Harry was dumbstruck. He remembered those exact words...  
  
"No." Harry seemed to deflate as he said it. "I will go back."  
  
"Good," the woman said, and the room became solid, its walls a nearly blinding shade of white. The door was gone. The woman, however, still changed colors; her eyes were still black and depthless.  
  
"You will be brought back exactly one week before you are to be killed. You must find a way to elude your death and find your killer." Her expression became sour. "However, just because your death has been evaded once does not mean that it will never happen again. You must find the source of the murder to escape it forever." She held something out to Harry then, a small hourglass connected to a necklace -- a Time Turner.   
  
"Use it wisely, Harry Potter." She smiled again. "I hope to see you again... a long time from now."  
  
With that, the floor opened and swallowed Harry whole.  
  
*****  
  
Harry sat bolt upright, sweating, tongue dry and swollen in his mouth.  
  
He reflexively raised a hand to his forehead, to feel his scar...  
  
... it wasn't there.  
  
Harry nearly screamed. Jumping out of his four-poster, he ran to a mirror...  
  
The red hair startled him for a moment, as did the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Harry raised a cautious hand to his forehead... the redhead in the mirror did the same. Harry leaned so close to the mirror he was afraid of falling into it.  
  
Harry couldn't believe it. He was Ron Weasley.   
  
"'Ey, Ron." It was Seamus. "What're you doing up?"  
  
"Uh ... nothing." He hoped he sounded okay.  
  
"You sure?" He saw a figure out of the corner of his eye.   
  
"Yeah, Seamus... just go back to sleep."  
  
"All right." A pause. "Ron?"  
  
Harry almost jumped. "Yeah?"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry's heart -- or rather, Ron Weasley's -- jumped into his throat. Maybe he didn't sound enough like Ron.  
  
"Nothing... it's just that... after Snape got that Request Charm potion on you, you were awfully mad... just don't want you fighting with everyone again..." Chuckling, Seamus went back to his four-poster, taking something out of the trunk near it. "Here," he said, handing Harry a book. "It's 'Dark Potions and You'," he explained. "You've been asking for it all week. The Request Charm antidote is in there. It'll clean your robes right up."  
  
Request Charm? Something inside Harry wanted to snarl aloud at the idea. He remembered that... Snape had spilled something on him earlier that day. No matter.  
  
Shakily, letting out the breath he had unwittingly held for almost a minute, Harry pushed the anger out of his mind and crept back into bed. Maybe, he thought, maybe the source...  
  
He was asleep before he could think any more.  
  
*****  
  
Harry awakened the next morning fully refreshed and ready for classes. He tried to think, briefly, about the night before, and stopped; it was just a strange dream. He would just roll over, grab his glasses, and --  
  
Harry grabbed something, but it wasn't his pair of glasses. It was oddly shaped and reassuringly solid. He brought it to his eyes to examine it.  
  
It was the Time Turner.  
  
Instantly Harry's hand was to his forehead. No scar, not even an irregular patch of skin where the scar should have been. Just smooth skin... Ron Weasley's skin.  
  
Harry stared incredulously at the Time Turner. As he did, the beautiful woman's words came back to him.  
  
"You will be brought back exactly one week before you are to be killed... You must find a way to elude your death and find your killer... You must find the source of the murder to escape it forever."  
  
How could he elude his death if he wasn't himself?   
  
In his desperation, Harry almost turned the Time Turner upside-down, stopping just before it turned completely. How far would this Turner take him in one turn? Hermione's Turner when they were third years went one hour per turn. But... to find the source... wouldn't Harry have to travel farther per turn to get there?  
  
Where was this source, anyway? And how could he find it?  
  
A faint cry of "Hey, Ron" came up the stairs, breaking his train of thought. Seamus again. "Come on, you're late, we'll miss the Quidditch match if you keep this up."  
  
Quidditch? Harry tried to concentrate. Who was playing whom a week ago?  
  
Gryffindor and Slytherin. They played a week ago, but Slytherin won by ten points.  
  
Harry swore on reflex. He would have to sit in the stands for the match.  
  
Who would play Seeker? Harry knew that he, Harry Potter, would... but WHO? Who woke up this morning as Harry Potter?  
  
Harry swore again, grabbed his black Hogwarts robes, and hurried to the Great Hall.  
  
*****  
  
The Hall was in an uproar when Harry finally rushed down. People were scurrying from table to table, whispering news, shrieking, yelling, crying.  
  
"What? What's going on?" he asked. No one answered. Finally he grabbed a running girl by the shoulder. Harry instantly recognized Parvati Patil.  
  
"Parvati," he said, "what's going on?" He looked into her panicked eyes.  
  
Looking at him, she panicked more. "I... nothing! Nothing's happening," she said, squirming painfully in his grasp. "Look, Ron, just let me go..."  
  
Harry almost swore again. He had forgotten he was, temporarily, Ron. "Sorry," he managed to stammer, and Parvati hurried away.  
  
In a daze, he reached the Gryffindor table, only to notice that many of the people at the table were in tears.  
  
Something inside Harry was beginning to react to the panic around him. "What's wrong?" he asked in general, becoming more and more weirded out by the minute.   
  
"It's Hermione... she's disappeared." It was Ginny who spoke. Her brown eyes seemed to enlarge in her face, nearly brimming with tears. "It's horrible... no one has seen her since last night. Someone said that she wandered out of the portrait hole... and never came back."  
  
"Hermione? Disappeared?" Harry didn't remember anything of the sort happening last week. As he remembered, Hermione was there all week...  
  
A small pop quieted the uproarious Hall instantly. There, square in the middle of the Hall, hair bushy and wild, stood Hermione Granger. She looked around for a split second, then dashed out of the Hall, robes flying behind her.  
  
As soon as she was gone, the Hall returned to normal. The uproar died as suddenly as it had started. It was as though nothing had happened.  
  
Just then, Harry Potter walked into the Hall. Nearly every eye turned to stare at him. Some girls seemed almost to fall out of their chairs to get a closer look. Most of the boys glanced quickly; some glances lingered, traces of envy in them.  
  
Harry Potter, no matter how many ways he was beaten down, was still seen as an idol. Why hadn't he noticed that before?  
  
Harry trudged across the Hall to sit right across from Harry. He eyed Harry warily for a moment before asking, "What's going on, Ron? You look a little strange today."  
  
Harry nearly cried in relief. He remembered having this conversation with Ron a week ago.   
  
"Nothing, Harry... let's get Slytherin today." That sounded horrible, Harry thought to himself, wincing. It was basically what Ron had said to him, though.  
  
"All right."   
  
Harry turned back to his plate then, indicating that the conversation was done. The real Harry was taken aback. Was he really that rude?  
  
Time passed. The Quidditch match was looming. Harry raced out to the pitch, barely having time to grab his broom before warming up.   
  
"'Ey! Ron!" Harry yelled. Ron looked around to see Harry storming across the pitch.  
  
"What's going on? Why do you have my broom? You're not even supposed to be playing today -- you're a reserve." Harry nearly gaped at the tone Harry was using.  
  
"Oh. Er... sorry, Harry -- here you go --" Harry snatched the broom without so much as a thank-you before zooming up and away.   
  
Harry racked his memory, trying to remember if he had really done those things a week ago. It horrified him to realize that he had.  
  
In fact, that's the way it had been since he met the Weasleys. He went gallivanting around, believing himself to be better than everyone, breaking all sorts of rules. What's worse, he wanted to drag everyone down with him when he screwed up...  
  
Harry stormed to the stands, sitting down in a huff. He couldn't believe he could be so self-centered.  
  
The next few hours were a blur. Harry was so angry with himself that he willed any Bludgers to go in Harry's direction. Maybe Harry would get knocked off of his broom...   
  
The game ended. Slytherin won.  
  
Harry was still furious. He refused to talk, just wandered mutely into the common room and sank into a squishy armchair.  
  
"Ron?" It was Harry. Harry resisted the urge to growl menacingly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I -- er, I just wanted to apologize for earlier today... I can't believe Slytherin won."  
  
"Oh well. There's always next time." Harry forced a grin. "Maybe we could slip some Canary Creams into their breakfast pasties, eh?"  
  
Chuckling, Harry walked away, leaving Harry in the squashy armchair.  
  
How could he ever stand himself? he wondered.  
  
*****  
  
Harry's next four days as Ron were interesting, to say the least. The day of the harrowing match between Gryffindor and Slytherin started to fade from his memory. He noticed, acutely, that both Parvati and Padma Patil were falling head-over-heels for his best friend Harry, but he didn't seem to care because he was trying the most ridiculous schemes to get Hermione to notice him.  
  
Why bother? a corner of Harry's Ron-mind thought. It's obvious she wants me, and not famous Harry Potter...  
  
Harry Potter. Even the name was beginning to bother him. How could he have lived with it for so long?  
  
It was in this state that he went to Potions one Friday morning. Snape seemed to pick up on Harry's distress, and immediately slithered over.   
  
"So. Weasley." His lips barely moved. A corner of Harry's mind wondered what was going on.   
  
"I have the potion, if you have the courage."   
  
Harry was still thinking when the reply came: "Yes, of course, Master Snape."   
  
Snape's beady black eyes gleamed brighter. "You will have the potion Monday. See to it that he gets it."  
  
"Yes, Master Snape." Ron replied. Of course he would get it.   
  
Harry wondered at the exchange. He also was aware of a strange feeling, something he had never felt before. It was like glue... sucking him in... Harry tried to fight, but the glue just grew stronger... Harry, not knowing how to put up a fight, was pulled into darkness.  
  
*****  
  
The weekend came and went, and soon Ron found himself readying for bed on Sunday night. He was excited, of course, but for some reason (he couldn't imagine why), he was preoccupied, as though there was something he was missing. Oh well, it mattered not... soon he would deliver the potion and become famous.  
  
For some reason, Ron found he could not sleep. Tossing, turning, his eyes searched the room around his four-poster, finally resting on the Time Turner.  
  
And, suddenly, it came to him.  
  
He wasn't Ron Weasley... he was Harry, Harry Potter, and when the morning came he would poison someone as Ron... he didn't know who, or why... but the Time Turner mattered... in some way, it mattered...  
  
From a small corner of Ron's mind, a whisper came: "The source..." What was the source? The voice was, certainly, familiar...  
  
And then he knew. His stomach lurched.   
  
He would poison Harry. Tomorrow, Ron would put poison in Harry's pumpkin juice and poison him.  
  
Ronald Weasley was Harry's killer.  
  
*****  
  
Harry wanted to scream. Or vomit. Either one wouldn't do him much good.  
  
Well, he thought to himself grimly, he had the who and the how.  
  
But why? It seemed obvious that Snape had been in contact with Ron long before this fateful week. They had to have been communicating long before this, to get to the level of trust that they had. Or else, Snape had control of Ron somehow...  
  
Harry suddenly felt himself drifting backwards again, into the recesses of himself. He was being engulfed in something... it stuck to him like glue, clogging in his nostrils until he couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't breathe.  
  
In passing, in the process of falling into himself, he heard Ron. It was as clear as though Ron were whispering in his ear.  
  
"Harry Potter. I hate the bastard. He could have gotten us killed this last time... with You-Know-Who so close... But did he understand? Of course not. He was just Harry Potter, the genius, the one who is above the law." Harry could feel the malice emanating from the voice.   
  
Then, as though a light had turned on, a memory came. It was during Potions... Monday... the day was spinning through Ron's mind. Snape had walked by, nearly sneering at the potion brewing in his cauldron...  
  
Someone tripped into Snape. He had lurched forward. The contents of the cauldron splashed onto Ron. It was warm and gross smelling. All of the cleaning spells in the world couldn't get the horrible splotches out of his robes.  
  
Ron had to stay behind. He hated staying behind in Snape's class; invariably he ended up scrubbing cauldrons... and he hated it.   
  
This time was different.  
  
"Do me a favor, Weasley." Snape's voice was honeyed.  
  
Ron listened. Soon he was dizzy. Snape was talking in mumbles... something about Harry and hating and poison and pain...   
  
The smell of the potion clung, filling Ron's nose as Snape's silky words filled his ears...  
  
*****  
  
Harry fought to regain control of Ron's body, to launch himself out of the memory. He had to. Mentally, he peeled off the glue, feeling it recede back to wherever it came from.  
  
Sitting up, Harry grabbed the Time-Turner. Creeping to Harry's trunk, he grabbed the silvery Invisibility Cloak and his borrowed copy of "Dark Potions and You."  
  
Furiously flipping pages, he looked for the Request Charm potion. Finally finding it on page 493, he read:  
  
"The Order Charm Potion is a very dangerous variant of the Request Charm Potion, made by simply adding ground peasquod stems to an ordinary Request Charm Potion. When used, the Order Charm produces strong effects; when inhaled, any order is followed to the letter..."  
  
Throwing down the book, Harry ran down the stairs and to the portrait hole. He was almost out when he ran into Hermione.  
  
"Ron!" she said, grabbing him by the arm. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Er -- I can't tell you," Harry said quickly.   
  
"Yes you can!" she argued. Her eyes widened as she saw the Invisibility Cloak in Harry's hands. "Why do you have Harry's cloak?" She became immediately suspicious, waiting for an answer.  
  
"There's no time to explain," he said quickly. Taking her hand, he began to pull her down hallways.  
  
"Like hell there isn't." She stopped.  
  
Finally becoming exasperated, Harry stopped too. "Look, Hermione... I would tell you everything if I could," he said, grabbing at her wrist.  
  
She pulled it away. "And why can't you? It's because you think that I'll just tell everyone, isn't it? You always think the worst of me, Ron."  
  
"No, Hermione... I don't..."  
  
"Yes you do!" she screamed. "Remember Scabbers? Or the Firebolt? I'm sure there are other things, but those are the first that come to mind. You always think that I've got to be a bossy know-it-all to feel better--"  
  
"Hermione..." Harry thought fast and hard about what Ron would say. "I regret all the things I said and did to you. I wish... I wish I could do it all over again. I would have believed you about Scabbers... if he had been any other rat but mine. And you were entirely too smug about the Firebolt incident for me to really believe you." There. Hopefully that was enough like Ron.  
  
She eyed him suspiciously. "Fine," she nearly snapped. "I won't bring up incidents in the past. I won't ask why you have Harry's Invisibility Cloak. I won't ask why you're out in the middle of the night... and I won't think you're crazy... yet."  
  
"Good... this has to work perfectly," Harry said feverishly; he checked to make sure the Time Turner was still around his neck. It was.   
  
"Ron..." Hermione started to back away. She had seen the Time Turner. "What are you doing? How did you get that? I'm going straight to Professor McGonagall; I don't care what you think..." she muttered to herself, turning to creep back to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry yelled. However, his voice wasn't Ron's, as it had been for the past week. His voice came out as his real voice, as Harry Potter's voice.   
  
Hermione froze. Slowly, she turned until her frightened, cinnamon-colored eyes locked gazes with Ron's steady blue ones.  
  
"I can't explain this, Hermione, not now," Harry said. "Harry will die if we don't do this."  
  
Wordlessly, she came to his side.   
  
Harry took the Time Turner out then, making sure the necklace was around both his and Hermione's necks.   
  
"Ready?" he whispered. Hermione nodded.   
  
He threw the Invisibility Cloak over both of them and turned the Turner once.  
  
*****  
  
The corridor went dark, and the beautiful woman appeared. Harry heard Hermione gasp beside him.  
  
"The source, Harry Potter. You must find the source. I can only grant you five minutes before you must return here."  
  
The woman smiled, and Hermione sighed. "Good luck to you, Harry Potter."  
  
Then he and Hermione were flying backward.  
  
They materialized in the Great Hall, devoid of people. Running, almost tripping over each other under the Invisibility Cloak, they managed to reach the Potions dungeons.  
  
When he saw the scene inside, Harry almost swore aloud.   
  
Ron's cauldron had already tipped over, soaking both Ron and Snape in the brew.  
  
They were too late.  
  
Angry, Snape dismissed the rest of the students, ordering Ron to stay in the room.  
  
Harry brightened. Maybe it wasn't too late after all.  
  
"Do me a favor, Weasley," Snape said, voice as honeyed as in Ron's memory.  
  
"Stop." Harry spoke now, trying to sound as commanding as possible. Snape seemed to freeze. "Ronald Weasley, don't listen to a word Severus Snape says."  
  
Ron's eyes seemed to clear a little then. "Who... who is talking?"  
  
"It does not matter to you. Leave." Without another thought, Ron ran from the room.  
  
Harry sighed, imperceptibly... and then he remembered. The source. He had to stop his murder at the source. He was running out of time.  
  
"Severus," he continued, and then stopped. "Tell me why you want to hurt Harry Potter."  
  
"Tell me who you are."   
  
Harry was momentarily taken aback. "Tell me why you want to see Harry Potter dead," he repeated.  
  
Snape smiled wickedly. "He will pay his father's debts."  
  
"Oh God," Harry heard Hermione say, "I think he's finally gone insane..."  
  
"Quiet!" Harry whispered harshly. To Snape, he said: "Harry's father... James Potter has no debts to pay. You shall not kill his son... You do not want his son Harry to die." For extra measure, he tried to begin to add, "You shall protect him with your life and refer to him as 'Master Harry'"...  
  
Snape's eyes cleared. Immediately he searched the room. "I know you're in here, Potter," he hissed. "I know you have ordered me not to kill you. As the potion orders, I must obey." Snape began to pace the room, nose in the air. "Come out, Potter! I can smell you! You're under that damned Cloak, aren't you? I will find you - and then you will be expelled." Snape suddenly straightened, causing Harry to nearly jump in surprise - and reveal his and Hermione's sneakers.  
  
"There you are!" Snape shrieked.  
  
"Run!" Harry yelled to Hermione.  
  
He and Hermione scattered like frightened cockroaches - Hermione skittering out of the door, and Harry diving, still under the Invisibility Cloak, to tackle Snape. For a moment or two they wrestled, Snape trying in vain to grab the Invisibility Cloak to yank from Harry's body. Harry wanted to be sure that Hermione was safely away before trying to get away himself.   
  
Harry jumped up to run. At the same time, Snape managed to grab the cloak from him.   
  
"Can't leave without this," taunted Snape, waving the silvery Cloak in front of Harry's face.   
  
Harry paused only for a moment before yelling, "Accio Cloak!"   
  
As expected, the Cloak sailed into Harry's hands, nearly carrying Snape with it.  
  
Just barely covering himself with the Cloak before running out, Harry went to search for Hermione.  
  
He found her at the end of the corridor. "Hermione," he said. She waved back and motioned him to sit beside her.   
  
Relieved, Harry sank to the floor... to realize he was alone.  
  
Hermione had disappeared. Where had she gone...?   
  
He had no more time to think, because in the next moment he was flying forwards in the dark.  
  
*****  
  
He landed in the familiar round-cornered room. The beautiful changing woman stood there still, eyes darker than they ever had been.  
  
"Why am I here?" Harry turned at the voice -- it was Hermione. Hermione turned to Harry. "It's you," she said. "It's been you the entire time, hasn't it?"  
  
Harry managed a nod.   
  
"So - what is this place? And can I stay?" Hermione looked completely peaceful, smiling at the changing woman.  
  
"You," she answered, pointing at Hermione, "must return to your world." She smiled.  
  
"But... I don't want to go," Hermione said gently. "Can't I stay here?"  
  
The same thoughts had entered Harry's mind.   
  
The woman smiled even more serenely then, making the walls seem to sing with the loveliest music ever heard.   
  
"You cannot stay here, Hermione Granger. You must return to your world," she repeated, and Hermione faded, slowly, and was no more.  
  
Turning from where Hermione used to be, the woman gazed steadily at Harry. "You must return as well." She beamed at Harry with her face that was not a face. "You have been successful. Lady Fate has been foiled... for today. She is not always so easily conquered."  
  
Harry nodded. The beauty of the woman made him ache.  
  
"You must return," she repeated. "Give me my tool... then you too must go... and live." Harry handed her the Time Turner.   
  
"I will see you again, Harry Potter."  
  
And she was gone.  
  
*****  
  
Harry awakened in the hospital wing. Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were standing around his bed.  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked, groggy.  
  
"You fainted," Hermione said. The look in her eyes made Harry think of the changing woman.  
  
"Poppy has informed me," said Dumbledore after a moment or two of silence, "that you are going to be fine." Straightening, he locked eyes with Ron and McGonagall. "If you could give Miss Granger and me a moment alone with Harry," he requested. Nodding, they left.  
  
As soon as they were gone, Dumbledore smiled at Harry, eyes twinkling. "Miss Granger here has informed me of your... adventure... last night."  
  
"Adventure?" Harry repeated.   
  
"Yes," Hermione said.   
  
"I know you saw the Guardian of Paradise last night." Dumbledore became serious. "You have, by defying Fate, altered not only your destiny but the destinies of all of us here."  
  
Harry nodded.   
  
"You made the right choice."  
  
Did he? The solid brown door in the room came to mind. The right choice seemed to be the door... and what was beyond.  
  
"I am very proud of you." Dumbledore smiled again. "Get well soon, Harry Potter. The world needs you."  
  
With this, Dumbledore left, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.  
  
Hermione stared after Dumbledore for a moment; then her gaze met Harry's.  
  
"I can't believe it was you."  
  
"Hermione, look -"  
  
"You almost had me fooled for a moment, you know, when you were Ron." She looked hurt. "I almost believed that Ron could actually say that he... that he regretted doubting me, at least."  
  
"Hermione -"  
  
"Promise to never talk about last night ever again," she said simply. "I was never so crazy to believe that Ron could be so... mature." This last part was surprisingly bitter, and Hermione looked to be suppressing tears.   
  
"Hermione." Something in Harry's voice made Hermione look at him. "I said what I thought Ron felt."  
  
She snorted in derision. "Well, you can't be sure you're not mistaken."  
  
"Listen to me." Harry sat up in bed so that he could be near eye-to-eye with Hermione. "Ron really does regret every time he's doubted you. He... he just doesn't know how to tell you. He doesn't know if you'd understand -"  
  
"Of course I would understand!" she cried, "I... well, I've known him - I've known you both - for ages. Of course I would understand," she repeated.  
  
"Yeah... but Ron doesn't know that." Hermione looked away. "Do I need to brew up some Order Charm potion? Go and tell him! I can't sit in between you and Ron forever."  
  
Hermione almost laughed. Then, as though struck with something, she jumped up and walked out.  
  
Harry sighed. He promised Hermione never to talk about last night ever again.  
  
He promised to himself that he'd never forget.  
  
*****************  
  
A/N: Thanks so much for reading this story... it was rather impromptu and written in a series of e-mails... honestly. I got the idea for the fic from a game I just bought for PS2, "Shadow of Destiny." It's a cool game. :)(I can't tell you more than that because it would give everything away... just get the game... get the game...!)  
  
This fic is dedicated to Jenna ("Incurable Romantic"), who I e-mailed this story to in chunks. She is the best beta-reader EVER, and encouraged me to write when I couldn't get past the first part. Of course, she also helped me to tweak and pinch and cut and paste until the story made more sense.  
  
Now that that is all over... review! Please! I'd love it if you did.  



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